Whumptober: Day 22 - Hallucination
by Lif61
Summary: Sam and Dean are in a diner trying to figure out what to get for lunch, but because of his Cage trauma, Sam finds it incredibly difficult to focus.


**A/N: Written for day 22 of Whumptober 2019. Here it is! I managed to get day 22 done in under an hour. It might seem longer than an hour since my last post, but that's because of all the posting I have to do. I post on three different sites counting this one. Hope you guys like this bit of dark Samifer!**

**Prompt: hallucination**

**WARNINGS: This contains references to violence including eating of human flesh, burning, and fire, and it also contains trauma, PTSD, referenced rape, past rape, non-consensual trauma, and fantasizing about drugging someone.**

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Lucifer nuzzled against Sam, licked at his neck, tongue moving higher, breath wafting over his ear. His teeth then nipped at it, digging in at the bottom of his lobe.

"Mm, Sam, you sure you want to get something off the menu? Why don't you just choose from something that's right here?" He tried grabbing Sam's hand and moving it over to his thigh, his groin, but Sam moved it out of his reach, closer to his own right leg, and he twitched.

"You good?" Dean asked, looking up from his own menu.

They were in a diner, trying to figure out what to order for lunch while they took a break from their hunt. The hunt didn't seem like much yet, was just really confusing. There had been a hammer used in a murder that'd been taken from an evidence locker and had been the weapon of choice for even more murders. What confused them was that it was made of pure iron. Sam thought they were up against something that was attempting to appear as a ghost. But why it wanted to appear that way he didn't know.

There was so much on his mind he couldn't focus, even though he had a book from the local library open next to him. His menu was in front of him, and he kept gazing over it, but without processing. Lucifer was beside him, constantly touching his body, and making crude jokes, comments, and suggestions.

Sam cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. Lucifer slipped a hand to his lower back, and then even lower, trying to get beneath his belt. He felt his fingers wiggling, so cold…

"Yeah, yeah. Um… You getting the bacon cheeseburger?"

Dean was talking, mouth moving, seeming enthusiastic by the light in his eyes, but Sam didn't hear anything. There was just a hand tugging at his belt, unbuckling it, that hand in the back slipping into his jeans after the button and zipper on his pants had been undone, and now his other hand was on his thigh.

"Ugh, shouldn't get the meat here, Sammy," Lucifer groaned, voice gravelly. "Such low quality. Just beef and pork. No, Sam Winchester on the menu, huh? Even when I didn't have your dick in my mouth, you still tasted good. Remember those chunks I took out of your thigh?" He licked his jaw, salivating on him hungrily. Sam grimaced, stomach roiling with nausea, all of him tensing, body trying to arch away from him. "Some chefs might say you need more fat on you, but my taste runs more towards muscle. I like to taste how strong my victims are when I tear them down, you know? Taste how weak I made them."

Dean was snapping his fingers in front of Sam's face now, and he started.

Saliva was making its way up into his mouth, and there was a light pounding in his forehead. His esophagus felt like it didn't have a good control over things.

The hands were still on him, the one on his thigh traveling dangerously close to his undone jeans.

"Sam, are you seeing him again?"

Sam looked to his left, to Lucifer's eager grin, the way he bit his bottom lift, a hunger in his eyes he was sure couldn't even be seen in predators. Lucifer wasn't a predator. Predators hunted and ate because they needed to. Lucifer did it for fun. He was vile, evil, vicious, intelligent. He dipped his head lower, looking up at Sam through his lashes.

"Go on, tell Dean-o the truth. Can't hurt to let him know I'm hanging around in your noggin'. After all, maybe he can take you to the nuthouse. We'd have a blast there. I'd get to ram it in you all day, and they'd just pop you some pills that'd make you all _nice and compliant_. Ooh, I'd love that." He clapped Sam on the arm. "So come on, go for it."

"Uh… yeah. Yeah, he's… he's here," Sam said.

Dean lowered his menu, looked around the diner, which didn't have many people in it as they were getting lunch particularly late, and leaned forward.

"Sam, you know he's not real, right?"

Lucifer was biting his ear again, the sound of his wet tongue running over his skin loud and disgusting. He bit, pulling, and he moaned. Sam grit his teeth, shuddering, jaw clenching. Tears built up in his eyes, and his gaze darted everywhere, looking for an escape. His hands gripped the menu so tightly it bent.

Lucifer then pointed out the small print at the bottom of the menu, and recited into Sam's ear, voice a low murmur, lips against his skin, "Consuming raw or undercooked meats, poultry, seafood, shellfish, or eggs may increase your risk of foodborne illness." He chuckled. "Guess that doesn't affect me. You taste great raw."

Sam breathed out heavily, dropped his menu and dug his thumb into his scarred hand, trying desperately to will him away. A tear rolled down his cheek. Images of Lucifer tearing at his flesh like a butcher came to him, horrific memories of him biting that flesh, and swallowing it, _eating it_, engulfed him. Dean was no longer important.

Did Dean even exist?

"Yeah, I liked you like that. All bloody, and raw. So delicious. You taste good well done too. Or maybe medium well. Sometimes burn is good too." He walked his fingers up his arm as he went on, "Add a little flame to all that _perfect_ flesh, and I've got the perfect barbecue going."

There was a touch, more sensation on him, and Sam started, pulling away, moving so quickly he somehow managed to bang his head into a painting hanging by him. He nearly cried out from it, and he turned to Dean, mouth agape, hand against the back of his head. Dean gave him an apologetic look, but he gripped some of Sam's fingers.

Oh, he'd been trying to hold his hand, to press at his scar for him.

"He's not here," Dean said. "This is real. We got you out."

"Then what the fuck is my head doing?" Sam asked, in tears.

Lucifer undid a few buttons on his shirt, making Sam breathe heavy and shudder. His lips found his skin beneath his collarbones, and he whimpered. Dean dug his thumb into the scar, and Sam clenched his jaw at the pain that traveled down into the inner part of his wrist.

"Processing?" Sam looked on helplessly, so Dean continued, "I don't know, but you and me, we will find a way. We always do, okay? I'm not giving up on you, even if you give up on you. I'm gonna carry you. I've been your parent since I was four years old, and your damn hallucination ain't gonna fire me now. So for now, Lucifer can fuck off, and you're gonna get some food in you, alright?" Dean picked up the menu again. "So what do you want? A salad? You love your salads, right? So… a Greek? Chef? Blueberry goat cheese? Want some seltzer with it? A lemon slice? You should get a lemon slice, I know you like those. And hey, on our way back to the motel we can listen to some soft rock. Get some Billy Joel, and Neil Diamond in your ears."

Dean kept rambling about things Sam liked, Sam stared into his eyes, even when Dean was looking at the menu and not at him, and Lucifer's touch seemed to lesson, but still he whispered in his ear about the taste of Sam's flesh.

This was the best this situation was going to get for now.


End file.
